Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

A spanking comic, via Chross:

This is from a website that’s way outside the style of what I usually like to post, but as an example of that rara avis, BDSM porn with stinging nettles, I thought it was worth sharing:

Pictures are from Inquisition World.

Kaya is having fun riffing on the folks who think kinky people are a threat to society:

We get used to hearing that we’re “sick, twisted, damaged, blah blah blah” — but to hear that by the very nature of expressing our sexuality, we’re dangerous to society as a whole? It’s kind of flattering, isn’t it?

Who knew we held so much power? Honestly, my head could begin to swell right now! I am already planning what I’ll do when I take over the world, right after I finish with this very slow, very tedious, very very loooooong process of destroying feminism by bending over for a spanking now and then.

This entirely spurious but nonetheless quite fun history of flagellation comes to us from the 1884 classic Randiana. Some kinky fellows are sitting around in the smoking room swapping bullshit about the pleasures of whipping women, and the conversation goes like this:

‘Well, sir,’ said Monsignor, leaning back in his chair, ‘the art of birching is one on which I pride myself that I can speak with greater authority than any man in Europe, and you may judge that I do not aver this from any self-conceit when I tell you that I have, during the last ten years, assisted by a handsome subsidy from the Holy Consistory at Rome, ransacked the known world for evidence in support of its history. In that escritoire,’ he said, ‘there are sixteen octavo volumes, the compilation of laborious research, in which I have been assisted by brethren of all the holy orders affiliated to Mother Church, and I may mention in passing that worthy Dr Price here and Father Boniface have both contributed largely from their wide store of experience in correcting and annotating many of the chapters which deal with recent discoveries; for, Mr. Clinton, flagellation as an art is not only daily gaining fresh pupils and adherents, but scarcely a month passes without some new feature being added to our already huge stock of information.’

I lighted a cigar and said I should like to hear something more about it.

‘To begin with,’ began Father Peter, ‘we have indubitable proof from the Canaanitish Stones found in the Plain of Shinar, in 1748, and unearthed by Professor Bannister, that the priests of Baal, more than three thousand years ago, not only practiced flagellation in a crude form with hempen cords, but inculcated the practice in those who came to worship at the shrine of their god, and these are the unclean mysteries which are spoken of by Moses and Joshua, but which the Hebrew tongue had no word for.’

‘You astonish me,’ I said, ‘but what proof have you of this?’

‘Simply this: it was the age of hieroglyphics, and on the Shinar Stone was found, exquisitely carved, a figure of the god Baal gloating over a young girl whose virgin nakedness was being assailed by several stout priests with rough cords. I have a facsimile in volume 7, page 343. Hand it to Mr. Clinton, Boniface.’

Boniface did so, and sure enough there was the Canaanitish presentment of a young maiden with her lovely rounded arse turned up to the sky, and her hands tied to the enormous prick of the god Baal, being soundly flogged by two stout-looking men in loose but evidently priestly vestments.

‘The fact that the Israelites and men of Judah were constantly leaving their own worship, enticed away by the allurements of the Baalite priests, is another proof of the superior fascination which flagellation even in those days had over such unholy rites as sodomy.’

‘Your deductions interest me as a matter of history,’ I said, ‘but nothing more.’

‘Oh, I think I could interest you in another way presently,’ said Dr Price.

Monsignor continued: ‘The races all, more or less, have indulged in a love of the art, and it is well known that so far as Aryan lore will permit us to dive into the subject, both in Babylon and Nineveh, and even in later times in India also (which is surely something more than a mere coincidence), flagellation has not only thrived, but has been the fashionable recreation of all recorded time.’

‘I really cannot see,’ I interrupted, ‘where you get your authorities from.’

‘Well, so far as Nineveh goes, I simply ask you to take a walk through the Assyrian Hall of the British Museum, where in several places you will see the monarchs of that vast kingdom sitting on their thrones and watching intently some performance which seems to interest them greatly. In the foreground you will perceive a man with a whip of knotted thongs, as much like our cat-o’-nine-tails as anything, on the point of belabouring something — and then the stone ends; in other words, where the naked-arsed Assyrian damsel would be there is nil. Of course she has been chipped off by the authorities, seeing the scene as being likely to demoralise young children, who would begin to practice on their own posteriors, and end by fucking themselves into an early grave.’

‘Well,’ I said, in unbounded surprise, ‘your research is certainly too much for me.’

‘I thought we should teach you something presently,’ laughed Dr Price.

‘I have thousands of examples in those sixteen volumes, from the Aborigines of Australia and the Maoris of New Zealand to the Eskimos in their icy homes, the latter of whom may be said to have acquired the art by instinct, the cold temperature of the frozen zone suggesting flagellation as a means of warmth, and indeed, in a lecture read to the Geographical Society, Mr. Wimwam proved that the frigidity of Greenland prevented the women from procreating unless flagellation, and vigorous flagellation, too, had been previously applied.

‘The patristic Latin in which the books of the Holy Fathers are written,’ went on Monsignor, ‘contain numerous hints and examples, but although Clement of Alexandria quotes some startling theories, and both Lactantius and Tertullian back him to some extent, I cannot help thinking that so far as practical bum-tickling is concerned, we are a long way ahead of all the ancients.’

‘But,’ observed Dr Price mildly, ‘Ambrose and Jerome knew a thing or two.’

‘They had studied,’ replied the imperturbable Father Peter, ‘but were not cultured as we moderns are; for example, their birches grew in the hills of Illyria and Styria, and in that part of Austria we now call the Tyrol. Canada, with its glorious forests of birch, was unknown. Why, sir,’ said Monsignor, turning to me, his eyes lit up with the lambent flame of enthusiasm, ‘do you know the king birch of Manitoba will execute more enchantment on a girl’s backside in five minutes than these old contrivances of our forefathers could have managed in half an hour? My ringers tingle when I think of it.’

It’s Cherry Torn’s turn in the barrel (well, not literally, not this time) for slave training at The Training Of O this week. And her slave training seems to include rather a lot of spanking, as all here (I’m sure) agree it should:

My favorite, though, is this one.

See Also:

• Whipping Cherry Torn

If you haven’t been following Kinky Delight on a daily basis, you may have missed some items of great interest to spankos. I quite like the 1000-pixel wide version of this community whipping scene:

Other recent highlights of spanking interest:

Ponygirl racing by Eric Stanton
Spanked on horseback
Vintage OTK spanking photo
Terrible Brat
Evil pussy-whipping device

See Also:

• Italian Spanking Comic
• The Man With The Bullwhip

This paean to the aphrodisiac benefits of a good birching is from the November 1879 edition of The Pearl:

The Spell Of The Rod

When Lucy’s fine rump was first bared for a thrashing
She kicked and she screamed, as her arse we kept lashing.
She cried out for mercy in her dire distress
Promising amendment as we lowered her dress.

She had been most naughty, and a bad rude girl,
Who presumed the hair on her fanny to curl;
But the birch reached her quim as well as her bum —
The height of her agony was glorious fun.

Her frightened looks, and deep blushes of shame
Set our hearts pit-a-pit, and our senses in flame;
The old cockolorums our cunnies would grope,
Then tossed us on sofas and had a fine stroke.

To all you slow-coaches, who a rise scarce can get:
Come, pay your respect to Our Lady St. Bridget;
She’ll warm up your blood till it boils in your veins
And your penis all his pristine vigour regains.

Let the birch be your love, St. Bridget your saint,
Never flinch from the rod, nor think of a faint;
Swish! Swish! Let it fall, till the glow of desire
Will run through your senses, and set them on fire.

Ah! then you can fuck! and fuck, ah! so well!
That my Muse quite fails your joys to foretell.
But with oceans of spending, the fuck never ending,
Your ecstasy goes on, for a long time extending.

I have never fully understood the very specific fetish for spanking girls with their soft-rubber-soled shoes, but I know it’s an important fantasy for a lot of people. And I confess that this picture from SlutSpanking.com almost helps me to understand:

See Also:

• Spanking The Shoe Polish Girl
• Hand Out For A Spanking
• Outdoor Shoe Spanking
• A Careless Nurse's Punishment

So, it seems Haron got sent upstairs to choose a cane. Not an easy task for her:

Choose a cane. Easy for him to say. We have hundreds of them, one nastier than the other. How am I supposed to pick which one I fancy being striped with?

Generally, I prefer the thick, thuddy ones. They’re cool. But they look so bloody scary, even if I know in my head that I really do like them. Then there are the whippy ones, which look, well, harmless – on account of their thinness – but I know pretty well the little bastards slice into you like a razor.

And then there are the dragon canes, which are whippy and thuddy at once, and are really not very good for anything but scaring a girl to death, but I like being scared to death.

The first rule of being a successful (and very hot) paralegal: Don’t wear the sexy red party dress to the office if you’re going to be working late on the Friday evening before Valentine’s Day. If you do, before you know it you’ll be on the lap of the hard-driving new partner, with your hands tied behind your back, and he’ll be saying “Now, dear, I think it’s time to commit some delicious torts upon your person.”

Then of course it’s time for the bare bottom inspection, or as he will call it, “doing discovery and due diligence”:

The spanking is, of course, inevitable. SLAPP suit, anyone?

And after that, it’s time for what is often thought to be the most common experience in any lawyer’s office, which we laymen sometimes call “getting fucked” or even “getting anally reamed”.

Pictures and video via Sex and Submission.

See Also:

• A Spanking From A Naked Man
• Sex And Submisssion And Spanking
• Spanking The Modern Woman

This is from an 1880s story called Adventures Of A Barmaid:

Here there was a tap at the door of Polly’s apartment.

“Come in,” exclaimed Mrs. Swipes. “Oh, it’s you, Bessie, is it; let me introduce you to our new lady, Miss Polly— ahem, what’s your name, my dear?”

“Never mind that; what will Miss Bessie take to wet the introduction?” said Polly.

“I know what I should like to give her, and that’s a good birch rod on her fat bum, for disturbing our quiet little con-fab,” said Mrs. Swipes.

“Would you, indeed, you dear old girl, you do like to see a rosy bottom, getting redder under your strokes. Stand a bottle of fizz, and I don’t mind lending you my arse for a few minutes, it leads up to such pleasant sensations, and may be a novelty for our new friend Miss Polly. I must apologize for my intrusion; the fact is, I heard your voice in the room, as I was going down stairs to ask if Lord Rodney is coming to supper this evening.”

“Fudge!” exclaimed Mrs. Swipes, “why don’t you honestly say you guessed we’d got a drop of drink. I’ll soon fetch the fizz and take the price out of your arse, my impudent cheeky beauty; although I know you enjoy the touch of the twigs as much as I do the using them, the sight will give Miss Polly here a new sensation, or I’m no judge of character, she looks warm enough for anything!”

“Thank you for the compliment,” replied our heroine. “I own I’m not a lump of ice, but make haste, I’m curious to see the birching!”

The landlady went to the cellar in person, and soon reappeared with a bottle of true Madame Cliquot, in which the three ladies pledged each other “long life and plenty of frig.”

Mrs. Swipes had also brought with her, from the lower regions of the house, a long thin brown paper parcel, from which she unrolled a beautiful little tickle-tail, composed of a few long fine sprigs of birch, handsomely tied up with blue velvet and red silk ribbons at the handle end, whilst the tips of the twigs were so arranged as to spread out and cover a considerable area of any devoted bum they might be applied to.

“Lay me over the end of the sofa, and Miss Polly must hold my hands,” said Bessie, slipping off her dressing gown, which at once revealed that she had only her corset, chemise, and drawers to hide her person, which was set off to the best advantage by pink silk stockings, pretty gold buckled blue garters, and elegant high-heeled French slippers.

“As hard as you like, Swipes, dear, but you know I expect the gamahuche for a wind up at the finish.”

“I’m all there when the tingling cuts make you spend, my darling, I wouldn’t miss sucking up every drop for the world,” replied Mrs. S., taking up the switch, as Bessie kneeled up on the sofa, and gave Polly her hands to hold tight, as she reclined over the round head of that piece of furniture.

The landlady now quickly unbuttoned the band of Bessie’s drawers, pulling them down to her knees, and tucking the tail of the thin cambric chemise out of the way under her corset, both before and behind, so as to give a full view of a truly magnificent white rump, and all the stock-in-trade of a handsome and pretty young whore as one could wish to see.

“I’ll begin as I mean to go on!” said Mrs. Swipes, giving a very spiteful swish to commence with. “How do they feel Bessie, dear?” She followed up with a succession of sharp cuts, which fairly reddened the flesh of her posteriors, and made her writhe under the stinging sensation. Polly could see as she held her hands how her face flushed at the first smart of the rod, then how Bessie squirmed at each cut, getting ever more and more flushed, as she bit her lips to prevent crying out.

Polly could also very well see the reddening surface and rising weals as they appeared under the ruthless and stinging switches of the landlady, whose face flushed with delight as the flagellation proceeded. This made the blood tingle in the veins of our heroine, who quite shivered with emotion, and an indescribable feeling of voluptuous desire.

In about five minutes Miss Jones gave most evident signs of the approaching crisis, she closed her eyes, and hung her head over the end of the sofa, her bottom and thighs fairly quivering with the excess of her emotions, till Mrs. Swipes, throwing aside the now useless birch rod, rushed on her victim with all the energy of an excited tribade, turning the girl over on her back, and burying her face between Miss Bessie’s thighs, as she licked and sucked up every drop of spendings from her victim’s quivering quim, to the great delight and excitement of Miss Polly, who sat down and frigged herself in sympathy at the voluptuous sight.

One hopes the whipping to come will not be as desultory as the bondage in this vintage photo:

See Also:

• Another Martinet Spanking
• Vintage Lesbian Spanking
• Girl/Girl Martinet Whipping
• Spanked In Her Nylons
• Classic Bondage Spanking

Poor Alice! This rag doll is more frightening than the Red Queen ever dreamed of being:

Nice use of the riding crop to work on posture, in this picture from Whipped Ass:

See Also:

• Two Canes, Two Thighs
• Cropping Her Thighs
• Caning Penny Play
• More On Spanking Penny Play
• Spanking Penny Play

This reminiscence by PrinceOfHearts is written with a certain inimitable verbal vigor and effusiveness of metaphor, I’ll grant you that. But it doesn’t lack for enthusiasm!

Whenever Jenny and I went away together, we liked to make sure we secured appropriate accommodation, so that we had somewhere private to rush back to when she needed a good, hard, erotic flogging on her infuriatingly sexy behind.

These holiday beatings were always rather exciting affairs, conducted as they were in the fresh sensuality of unfamiliar surroundings and on days filled with the joys of freedom and copious recreational energy. My god how I used to love the hot smell of her bucking rear and her cries of desperate, squealing delight!

…

Walloping her naked like that over my knee would get me so turned on that I’d have to break the tempo, so as not to pop my champagne cork too soon. I prefer to indulge that particular joy in a controlled fashion, with my twitching cock discharging its aching heat into my spanking wench’s gaping pussy, up her straining bottom, over her heaving breasts or even into her startled face and tousled hair.

So to halt this relentless rise of my manly froth, I would stop the whacking to shift my position, ease the pressure on my swollen balls and lean forward to pinch her fragrant pussy, pouting anus and slippery clit with ingenious and expert pressure. I would really go to town on her private pink spots, tweaking and twisting until she wailed and wept and beat the floor with her fists, pleading with me to stop, begging me to beat her more, if it meant that I would stop the intimate, burning torture of her weakest and most personal places.

…

Jenny’s little secret fulcrum of devastating shame was her sweet, tight little asshole. One of the most embarrassing things for her about having her knickers taken down was the thought that I could see and even touch this forbidden place. She could hardly endure having her bud tweaked, so private and sensitive was that little opening, and the painful indignity of having foreign objects pushed up it was too much for her to bear without crying out in shame.

Of course it was therefore with the greatest of dominant, masculine pleasure that I would celebrate the end of a particularly exciting punishment session by forcing my white hot, concrete erection up her back passage one excruciating inch at a time.

She would wet herself with mortified excitement at even the very mention of anal sex, so I took great delight in the look of deep terror in her wide and pretty eyes when I would grin and say:

“Right then, lets get this massive hard-on as far up your bottom as we can, shall we?”

There’s more. Oh, so much more.

The last post having reminded me of The Flogging Whores Of Old London, I thought it might be worthwhile to reproduce the section on the “notorious machine” for the flogging of gentlemen (though, I daresay, it would be of equal utility when used to chastise the fairer sex):

“A notorious machine was invented for Mrs Berkley to flog gentlemen upon, in the spring of 1828. It is capable of being opened to a considerable extent, so as to bring the body to any angle that might be desirable.

There is a print in Mrs Berkley’s memoirs, representing a man upon it quite naked. A woman is sitting in a chair exactly under it, with her bosom, belly, and bush exposed: she is manualizing his embolon, whilst Mrs Berkley is birching his posteriors. The female acting as frictrix, was intended for Fisher, a fine, tall, dark-haired girl, all must remember who visited Charlotte Street at that day, as well as the good humoured blonde, Willis; the plump, tight, frisky and merry arsed Thrulow; Grenville, with the enormous bubbies; Bentine, with breadth of hip and splendour of buttock; Olive, the gipsy, whose brown skin, wicked black eye, and Medicean form, would melt an anchorite; the mild and amiable Palmer, with luxuriant and well-fledged mount, from whose tufted honors many a noble lord had stolen a sprig; and Pryce, the pleasing and complaisant, who, if birch was a question, could both give and take.

“When the new flogging machine was invented, the designer told her it would bring her into notice, and go by her name after her death; and it did cause her to be talked of, and brought her a great deal of business. She died in September, 1836, having funded ten thousand pounds during the eight years she had been a governess. The original horse is among the models of the Society of Arts at the Adelphi, and was presented by Doctor Vance, her executor.

Abel recently came across this nifty bit of doggerel from a play apparently performed in London in 1733:

“While she is stripping to get a good whipping,
I’ll away, dance and play,
Yes I will, that I will;
While she is stripping to get a good whipping,
I’ll go and romp with the Girls and the Boys.”

He’s got all the details, but I was fascinated, upon following his link, to discover that this tidbit is sourced to the same 1877 Index Librorum Prohibitorum whence came this post.